Modernization
by runic
Summary: Sooner or later, everyone learns to accept technology. No, really. Everyone.


MODERNIZATION 

Disclaimer: Death as protrayed here and the Discworld belongs to Terry Pratchett, not me. Nuh-uh. 

* * *

"Is he dead yet?" 

The leather and chain-clad young man peered cautiously at the fallen body lying on the rotting floor of the alleyway. Firmly gripping the crowbar in his hands, he poked it once, then twice. When there was no response, he grinned, and kicked it hard in the ribs. 

"Dead as a nail," he proclaimed proudly, swinging the bar over his shoulder and striking a jaunty pose as he did. His partner sighed in relief. 

"That was close," he mumbled. "He was a tough one, wasn't he?" 

"Uh-huh," the other man replied absent-mindedly as he knelt down and begun rummaging through the corpse's clothing. "But thick skulls are nothing compared to me trusty crowbar here. Now get your fat ass down here and help me with this." 

"Okay Boss... Look here, this guy's loaded!" 

The two men gawked at the open wallet he held in his hands, then looked up and grinned at each other. 

"Oh man... You really know how to pick them, don't you Boss?" 

"Of course. Why else didya' think I'm the boss, eh? Now all we gotta do is get rid of the body and we're home-free." 

SAVE FOR THE FACT THAT THE WATCH ARE JUST AROUND THE CORNER, OF COURSE. 

"Didja' just say something, Fatso?" 

"No Boss. I thought that was you." 

"It wasn't me, you idiot." 

AHEM. 

Turning around slowly, they looked up from the wallet in their hands, and stopped. A minute passed. 

YOU KNOW, YOU REALLY OUGHT TO BE RUNNING NOW, IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE CAUGHT BY THE WATCH. OR THE THIEVES' GUILD, FOR THAT MATTER. 

There was a solid 'thud' as the loaded wallet hit the ground, followed by running footsteps and screams of pure terror and gibberish. 

The figure in black scratched his head, puzzled, then shrugged. He had never understood mortals, and would never attempt to. Turning back to the task at hand, he watched the still corpse on the ground, and waited. 

A few seconds later, a transparent body sat up from the solid one, and touched its head gingerly. 

"Damn those little bastards," it mumbled as it stood up, then bent down to dust imaginary dust of its trousers. "A man can't take a shortcut now without being mugged at every corner... Here, what's this?" 

Turning around, it saw its face, by now grossly distorted, on the ground, together with the rest of what it thought to be its body. It stared in disbelief, then spun around and frantically begun patting itself down. 

"But I'm still here, aren't I?" It cried desperately. It looked down again, and rubbed its eyes. "Wait, wait. This a hallucination, isn't it? One of those weird dreams? All I gotta do is wake up and--" 

I'M AFRAID THAT'S NOT AN OPTION AVAILABLE TO YOU ANYMORE. 

The spectra looked over its shoulder, then turned around slowly. The other person stared back at him quite calmly. 

"You..." It started, but the words refused to come. It tried again. "Please don't tell me you're who I think you are." 

The figure cocked its head in a puzzled sort of way. 

ALL RIGHT, He agreed. I WON'T TELL YOU THEN. 

The man sighed in relief. 

I WILL SHOW YOU. 

With that, it twisted the long staff in its hand slightly. A blade, sharpened until it literally cut the air surrounding it, shot out from its head. With a terrible grin, the figure grasped it, and swung expertly. 

There was a snap unheard by human ears, and the transparent man screamed. 

EXCUSE ME. 

"Arrggghhhhhh..." 

YOU CAN STOP SCREAMING NOW. 

"....ggghhhhhhh..." 

IT'S OVER. 

"....garrhhhhhhhh...." 

HELLO? 

".....gggrrhhhhhh...." 

The figure sighed. Retracting the blade, he stepped forward and clamped a bony hand over the other man's mouth. 

"Mguyrf!!" 

WILL YOU PLEASE STOP SCREAMING NOW? 

He nodded frantically, his eyes darting all over the place, desperately seeking something to land on, other than the face directly in front of him. 

THANK YOU. 

It released its hand, then stepped back and watched in interest as the ghost in front of him begun pacing the ground. Or the air rather, since it was floating several inches over the cement floor. 

After several minutes of this, he finally looked up. 

"...That's my body down there, isn't it?" 

I'M AFRAID SO. 

"... I'm dead, aren't I?" 

I SHOULD THINK SO. 

"But I can't die now! There's the wife at home! And the kids! Who's gonna take care of them if I die now?" 

I'M SURE THEY WILL FIND SOME WAY TO TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES. 

"That's not the point! The point is, I can't die now! I've finally got a good job, today's our tenth anniversary, and--" 

A tune, constructed of several carefully placed and toned beeps, sounded cheerfully into the air. The ghost stopped in mid-sentence and stared at the figure opposite him. 

OH. SORRY. HANG ON FOR A MINUTE. 

He stared some more as the person fumbled among the dark recesses of its robes for a minute, and finally produced a small black device. It peered seriously at the tiny screen set in its middle, and sighed again. 

OH, BUGGER. NOT AGAIN. 

The ghost gawked. 

"Y-You have a pager?" 

The other person looked up, clearly intending to look surprised, but failing miserably. 

YES. DOESN'T EVERYBODY? 

"Well, yes..." He faltered. "But I didn't expect YOU to have one as well..." 

The person shrugged. 

I DON'T REALLY USE IT, he explained. AND TO TELL YOU QUITE FRANKLY, IT'S A NUISENCE TO HAVE AROUND. I TRIED GIVING IT BACK, BUT THEY WOULDN'T ACCEPT IT, AND THEY SAID-- 

The tinny music sounded again, more insistently this time. The figure gave an irritated sigh, and tucked the device back into its robes. 

YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN? AND IT HAPPENS AT THE MOST INCONVEINIENT TIMES TOO. 

"Ah... Yes... I see what you mean..." 

DO YOU? IN THAT CASE, THEN COULD YOU PLEASE HURRY UP AND BE ON YOUR WAY? 

"Be on my way? What do you mean?" 

YOU KNOW. GO TO WHEREVER YOU BELIEVE YOU WILL GO TO WHEN YOU DIE. THAT SORT OF THING. 

"Aren't you supposed to take me there?" 

NOT EXACTLY. I'M JUST HERE TO ANSWER ANY QUESTIONS YOU MAY HAVE ABOUT YOUR CURRENT STATE OF DIMENSION, THAT'S ALL. THE REST IS UP TO YOU. 

"Well... I always was a strict Christian..." 

GOOD, GOOD. The figure by now obviously agitated, made shooing motions with its hands. NOW GET ALONG TO WHEREVER YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE. 

"You know," The ghost said, offended. "That's not a very good attitude to have towards someone who's just died, you know." 

MY GOOD MAN, I STRONGLY ADVISE YOU TO STOP CRITISING MY WORK, AND TO SAVE YOUR BREATH FOR THE LONG CLIMB AHEAD OF YOU. 

"Huh?" 

He turned around, and paled to an even stronger shade of white. Before him was a staircase which seemed to be comprised of all the staircases in the world, spiraling up to the skies above, where a bright light shone in the far distance. He turned back to the figure in black, and gulped. 

"But I thought that was just a song...." 

WELL, NOW YOU KNOW BETTER. 


End file.
